


The Bernicia and Camelot Collection

by morningstar115



Series: Bernicia [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Drabble, Drama, Friendship, Humor, Multi, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningstar115/pseuds/morningstar115
Summary: A collection of (relatively) short bits and pieces from my "Bernicia" universe. Includes both canon characters and OCs, and will probably make no sense if one hasn't read the main works in the series. Times and locations vary.





	1. Grass on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> These are just some extras to the two main stories from this AU. I have a few that I wrote and posted on ff.net a couple years back, and I may write a few more just for fun. This first one's just a drabble.  
> Chapter Summary: After leaving Camelot for good, Gwaine has some...um, problems with his newfound abilities.

The warm sun felt nice and calming on his face as he lay in the clearing. Nearby, his bay stallion grazed peacefully.

He dozed for a while, but a bothersome fly buzzing around his face soon forced him to wake up. Sitting upright, he batted the insect away. "I guess it's time to get going, anyway," he said to the quiet woods.

As he stood up slowly, musing over how he usually had trouble relaxing these days, a patch of grass near his feet started on fire.

He yelled, and then stamped on the flames to extinguish them.

_Damn magic._


	2. Trust Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur had trusted Gwaine...then again, he'd trusted a lot of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little drabble...

He'd been betrayed too many times.

He'd been betrayed, over and over again by people he thought he could trust...his friends, his allies, his sister, his uncle.

Even by his father.

When Morgana had claimed the throne, proclaiming her enmity to old Camelot, Arthur had felt that everything had come to an end. There was nothing left. Somehow, the strangely wise words of his manservant had snapped him out of it. But the sting of betrayal remained.

So when one of his most trusted knights admitted to being close to magic, a force Arthur despised, something inside him snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So he banished Gwaine and decided never to speak of him again. That worked out so well...


	3. When Llacheu Pendragon Met Caldwell Barclayn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "first meeting" story and the aftermath. Arthur and Gwaine really should have seen this coming...

"Camelot welcomes you, Prince Elwin of Bernicia." Arthur said formally as they visitors rode up. King Everard had sent his twin brother, his cousin, and a large entourage on a "goodwill visit". 

Elwin, almost twenty years older than when he had last set foot in Camelot, swung of his horse and strode forward. The king and prince clasped arms, then Arthur smiled. "You're not a child anymore, are you?"

The Bernician responded with a grin and the words, "And I've heard you've gotten old, Your Majesty."

That prompted laughter from some, and shocked looks from others. Elwin turned to address the queen as Lord Gwaine shouldered his way forward, holding out his hand. "Arthur."

"Gwaine." Arthur's gaze moved to someone approaching to join his former knight. "Let me guess. Your son? Caldwell, right?"

The black-haired boy merely narrowed his dark eyes before glancing up at Gwaine. The older man said, "Be polite, Caldwell."

That prompted a stiff bow from the boy and a smile from Arthur, who raised his voice to call, "Llacheu!"

The prince came forward, blue eyes suspicious behind a fringe of dark brown curls. "This is my son, Prince Llacheu," Arthur said, with no small amount of pride.

Ignoring the adults, the two boys watched each other with a mixture of distrust and curiosity. "How old are you?" Llacheu blurted out.

"Eleven."

"I'm twelve."

"You look younger."

"I do not!" Pause, then, "My father says  _your_ father is an idiot."

" _My_  father says _yours_ is an ass."

Gwaine stifled a laugh, and he and Arthur exchanged knowing looks. By the end of the day, the boys were near inseparable.

It was lucky, really, that Caldwell turned out to have magic and ended up spending a lot of time in Camelot, being tutored by Merlin.

_"I admit it; I did set all the targets on fire with magic. But it was Llacheu's idea!"_

_"Was not!"_

_"Was too!"_

_"Okay, fine, but_ you're _the one who suggested hiding all of the knights' socks in the stables, Cal!"_

Or maybe not so lucky.


	4. Mischief is Better with a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three incidents, two boys, and one friendship. And a lot of shenanigans.

**At ages twelve and thirteen:**

"This is ridiculous."

"Shut up, Barclayn. This is your fault."

"You kicked over the ladder,  _Pendragon_."

" _Llacheu!_ " The shout echoed through the street.

The two boys froze, exchanging nervous glances. "Well?" Caldwell raised an eyebrow.

Llacheu glanced along the steep wall they were perched on, down at the fallen ladder, then over at his friend. "Do you have the water bucket?"

"Yep."

"Good. We're up here, Father!"

A few seconds later… _Splash._

" _What the hell!_ " spluttered the king on the street below.

"Llacheu?"

"Yeah?"

"We're trapped."

" _You two wait until I get my hands on you!_ "

They started laughing.

* * *

 

**At ages fifteen and sixteen:**

The horse race had been Llacheu's idea. It wasn't a bad one. The "riding bareback" part was Caldwell's idea. It was a bad one.

Llacheu sat up very slowly, blinking as mud dripped from his curly hair. "Where's my horse?"

Caldwell, standing close to the muddy ditch with his own mount, gestured vaguely. "Over there. Are you okay?"

Llacheu glared up at him for a total of ten seconds before lunging forward and dragging him down into the mud.

" _Damn you!_ "

" _No, damn_ you _!_ "

Two older, mounted knights watched from a distance.

"Should we…" Elyan began.

"No." Percival chuckled.

* * *

 

**At ages nineteen and twenty:**

Being locked up in a crumbling castle by bandits was not fun, as the two young men were finding out.

"They're going to starve us and ask our fathers for money in return for our lives."

"Not helping."

"Then your fiancée will kill us."

" _Really_  not helping." Pause. Then, "You're an  _idiot_ , you know."

"Oh? In what way?"

"You have  _magic_ , genius."

"I know." Caldwell grinned wickedly, muttered something, and his eyes flashed gold. The manacles unlocked, falling to the floor.

They scrambled to their feet, rubbing their wrists. "Let's get out of here," the Pendragon said.

The Barclayn just smiled in response.


	5. The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to his parents' castle, there was always one stretch of road that he tried to avoid.

He couldn't count the times he'd taken the same road from the city of Bernicia to his childhood home. It was a familiar path, mostly leading through patches of forestland. When he traveled with others, he stuck to the road. When alone, he always avoided one part.

Like now. Seeing the familiar bend up ahead, he steered his horse left, into the woods. They continued along, weaving through the trees for a few minutes before he steered his mount back to the path. He allowed himself a sigh of relief.

He'd passed through there once, whilst traveling alone, thinking he could handle it. He didn't talk about it afterwards.

He had thrown up all over the bloody road.

The memory was still too much.


	6. Rainfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining on the day of the funeral.

It wasn't a very cold day, but it was raining.

_Ironic._

Despite the tiny droplets that continued to fall, gradually soaking the clothes of the assembled crowd on the hilltop, the funeral pyre burned merrily.

_It helps when the fire's lit by magic._

Ela was crying. Elen was too, only silently.

_Unsurprising._

As he stood apart from everyone including his tearful wife and half-asleep son, Gwaine felt a small hand slip into his right one as he felt a tug on his left sleeve. Looking down, he found his eight-year-old niece and nephew staring up at him. "What is it, you two?"

"Mama's crying, and she never cries," Henry said softly. "She's sad."

"Yes, she is. We all are."

"Because Grandpapa went away?" Heather clung to his his hand.

"Yes, because of that."

The two children seemed to consider this for a while. Then Henry asked, "Why aren't  _you_  crying, Uncle?"

_There could be more than one answer to that._ Gwaine sighed as his gaze returned to the funeral pyre.  _It's still raining._

A muddy path. A dripping forest. A silver blade stained with red.

"Because I've mourned for him before."


	7. Happily Ever After (Isn't Always Perfect)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her "happily ever after" unfortunately included nightmares and painful memories.

She had many peaceful nights, when the greatest of her worries involved whether or not the children would manage to stay asleep until morning. But every so often, she would wake abruptly from her own slumber, sweating and terrified, her breaths coming too fast and the bed nearly quaking from the force of her sobs.

_Remembering cruel hands and sneering mouths._

She'd cry aloud, unable to see in the darkened room, her mind taking her back to the days, _weeks_ she'd spent in conditions that would break any a human being.

_Remembering burning chains and searing pain._

At those times she often forgot she was safe, far from that crumbling castle in the distant woods, separated from the living nightmare by both miles and years.

_Remembering losing herself in emptiness as her will to live was stripped from her._

During those dark nights, she never spoke of what happened to her, beyond a few broken words. He never asked her to say more than she wished. He simply held her close until her sobs faded and her shaking ceased. Until she finally returned to sleep.

She would never cease to remember what had happened to her. But after each terror-filled night, Elen still woke to a new dawn.


	8. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected love story, years into the Golden Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pairing is not quite as out of nowhere as it might seem. I barely hinted at it in the first half of "The Battles We Cannot Evade", and a couple people commented on it when I posted the story on ff.net a couple years ago. I never went anywhere with it in the story proper, but today...I felt like going somewhere with it. It kind of got out of hand. Maybe.

Once upon a time, when magic was still banned in Camelot and the northern kingdoms existed mostly in confused rumors, Sir Percival and some of his fellow knights had met a young Northumbrian peasant girl named Hazel in the Lower Town. At the time, Percival had noted that she was reasonably pretty, very bold, and a bit brazen. She wasn’t tall, but had looked right into the knights’ eyes when she spoke to them with a gravely voice. They had briefly discussed the weather, roads, and the general state of the kingdom. Then the knights had returned to their business and Hazel had gone on her merry way.

The next time Percival and the others had seen “Hazel”, she was riding into battle wielding two axes and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Since then, magic had been allowed back in Camelot. All the kingdoms of Albion, even the far northern ones, were bound together by treaties and peace. Sir Percival had continued to serve Arthur Pendragon through all the changes, had gained a wife and child, then lost the woman he loved to an illness even magic could not cure. Today, nearly two decades since the battle in which Morgana had been defeated, Percival remained one of the realm’s most revered knights, living to serve his king, to protect the kingdom, and to take care of his eleven-year-old son.

Princess Haralda Barclayn, like Percival himself, was a quite a bit older now, her brown curls threaded with gray and her features both hardened and softened by the intervening years. Leaning on a castle balustrade, she glared down at the three young people chattering and laughing on a strip of grass down below.

“Your Highness,” Percival said as he approached her. “When did you arrive in Camelot?”

She turned to him. “ _Look_ at them! Two weeks I’m stuck with their creepy stares, and you’d think that was enough. But no, Elen says, you have to keep an eye on them in Camelot. Don’t let them wander off commune with horses or something else bizarre...Never mind that they’re _fifteen_ and more than capable of taking care of themselves...”

Down below, the black-haired boy Percival recognized as thirteen-year-old Caldwell Barclayn magically summoned some shiny insect and sent it buzzing around the heads of two older teenagers. The boy laughed and ducked as the girl batted the bug away from her long, ashy blonde hair. “You’re babysitting?”

“Yeah.” Haralda snorted. “Henry and Heather Wyverndomitor. Elen’s children. They wanted to visit their cousin, and I got stuck escorting them down here.”

Percival joined her at the balustrade. “They look safe enough.”

“Tell that to their mother.” She groaned and dragged her fingers through her hair. “They’re my family and I care about them, but they...they _stare_! And I’m tired of watching them!”

“Then don’t.” Percival gave her a tiny smile. “Would you rather practice spear-throwing? That’s what I’m on my way to do.”

Haralda looked up at him with clear relief in her eyes. “You wouldn’t mind me joining you?”

“Not at all.”

The princess cast one last look at the young people below, sighed, and looked back at Percival. “Lead the way, Tall-Man.”

* * *

“Good throw, Your Highness.”

“It’s Haralda. Or I’m calling you Sir Giant.”

* * *

Percival discovered that Haralda had a point about Henry and Heather’s “creepy” stares. Over the next couple weeks of their stay in Camelot, more than few people were the target of the twins’ wide gray eyes. The siblings were never far from each other, kept their eyes on the same things, and seemed to look at everything with either curiosity or exasperation. Most of the latter type were leveled at their cousin Caldwell, but Percival was the target of a few of the former kind.

“They grew up isolated,” Haralda told him. “Hayden and Elen live in an anthill of a house on a wyvern farm, and except for Gwaine’s visits with Caldwell and one of Everard’s half-dozen children...”

“They’re more polite than you,” Percival said.

“Most people are more polite than me.”

* * *

“You’re not bad with a crossbow.”

“It was my older brother’s favorite weapon...He’d laugh if he could hear me, but I miss him.”

“...I lost my brother, too, along with the rest of my family. Many years ago. It...It still hurts.” _Among other losses._

“I don’t think it’s ever supposed to stop hurting.”

* * *

Percival arrived at the training field later than he’d promised. “Elyan, have you seen Edan?”

“Yeah, he started training with Haralda Barclayn when you were late,” the dark-skinned knight replied. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them...but she hasn’t started throwing axes at him, so...”

Percival hurried to find them and found Haralda demonstrating the proper grip to use when throwing an axe. “It’s not that complicated, see...”

“I was planning on working with him on sword drills, _Your Highness_ ,” Percival said.

Edan smiled at him brightly. “Hello, Father! Haralda can throw an axe like no one I’ve ever seen!”

“He’s got potential with axes, _Sir Giant_.” Haralda grinned. “Swords are boring.”

“Your cousin doesn’t think so, if I recall.”

“That’s because he’s Gwaine. Uncle Goddard drilled the so-called superiority of swordsmanship into his head before he was Edan’s age. Still, if you must...” She slid her axe into her belt and waved her hand dismissively. “Go teach him how to wave an un-throwable weapon around.”

“You can stay! Right, Father?”

Percival looked down at his son, smiled, and looked over at Haralda. “Care to stick around, Princess? Or do you need to watch the twins?”

Haralda snorted and stayed to train with them.

* * *

“You were a farmer before you were a knight, weren’t you?”

“Yes. It was a simpler life.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Pause. “You’re really tall.”

“You think I never noticed?”

“No, I’m just saying.” Another pause. “I find tall people attractive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

* * *

 

A boisterous feast was held for some anniversary or other, and Percival found a seat next to Haralda. “You’re the only woman here not wearing a dress,” he observed.

“That’s because I didn’t bring one with me. Doesn’t mean I don’t wear them.”

“I see.” Percival eyed her. “You’re going back to Bernicia soon?”

“Elen’s getting antsy about her children. So yeah.”

“Edan will miss you at training.”

“And you?”

He only answered with a look.

* * *

 

“You’re up late, Tall-Man.”

“Edlan couldn’t sleep. We went for a walk on the battlements. It helps him.”

“His difficulties sleeping. Is that...Is it because of his mother?”

“She died four years ago. It was hard for him.” _And for me._

* * *

 

The next time Edlan had a breakdown, it was while he was training with several other future knights. Sir Kay took Percival’s place on the afternoon patrol last-minute and the tall knight rushed to find his son.

He found him in the armory, and Haralda was there.

“Listen, kid, I’m not good with sweet-talking, but...I know what it feels like to lose a parent. Two, actually. It feels like hell, and it’s going to keep feeling like that, even if your memories get fuzzy as time goes by. Thing is, you have to learn when to let yourself be broken up about it. You let it control you always, and you’ve lost a war you didn’t know you were fighting.”

She saw Percival approaching and stood up; she’d been kneeling in front of Edlan. “Your father’s here. I’ll see you later.”

As she brushed past Percival, he murmured, “Thank you.”

* * *

 

“Growing older is exhausting.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“It can be...almost lonely, too. Sometimes.”

_You’re not wrong._

* * *

 

A week later, word spread that Henry and Heather Wyverndomitor were preparing to head home within the next couple days. A few hours after hearing the news, Percival sought out Haralda.

“I’m sure Arthur wouldn’t mind providing a couple guards for the twins on their return journey.”

“What for? They have me.”

“Not if you stayed here, in Camelot.”

The princess didn’t respond, and Percival said, “Would you stay if I asked you to?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not... _her_ , Percival.”

“I know, Haralda.”

“I’ve never...done this.”

“That’s okay. That’s you.”

“You should think of Edlan. I’m not his mother. I can’t be.”

“Neither he nor I expect that.”

“So...you’re saying...”

“I’d like you to stay.”

She did. 


	9. Ruined (Kind Of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a well-known fact that children never turn out exactly as their parents might wish.

"Merlin, you've ruined my child."

"How so?"

"He literally just told me that he has no interest whatsoever in using a sword in a fight, now or ever."

"Well…He does have magic, more than you. Even if he ever did get into a life-or-death situation…which is unlikely right now…magic would be his best weapon. Besides, Cal's fifteen, almost sixteen. He's probably being opposed to using a sword at all just to be defiant towards you."

" _Damn_ it. Now I'll have to admit that my best swordsmanship student is one of Everard's dozen children."

 "I'm pretty sure your cousin doesn't have _that_ many kids, and even if he does…Why does it matter who your best student is?"

"I…It doesn't. Shouldn't. I'm being silly."

"Does this have something to do with how your father taught you?"

"…Maybe."

"Gwaine…"

"You're right; it shouldn't matter. Doesn't. Whatever."

"Don't you have a daughter? Why don't you teach her?"

"Merlin, Holly's _six_."

"So? She won't be for much longer. And the fact that she's a girl doesn't mean she can't become a warrior. Do I need to refer you to Haralda?"

(Holly eventually tied with Everard's oldest son as Gwaine's best swordsmanship student. Caldwell still preferred magic, thank you very much.) 


	10. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another first meeting story, this one against a background of drunken singing, kingly shouting, and dishes being thrown. The two people making each other's acquaintance are taking this all very calmly.

As the outraged shouting outside grew louder, the drunken singing downstairs grew more bawdy, and three platters soared through the air and clanged against the wall at the other end of the hallway, Merlin said, “I think I picked a bad time to visit.”

He was speaking to himself, but someone laughed. Jumping in surprise and spinning around, the warlock found that he was being watched by a vaguely familiar-looking, gray-haired man seated by a nearby window. Said man gave him a friendly smile. “I’d apologize, but I suppose none of it is really my fault.”

Smiling in return, Merlin stepped over to the window and looked out upon the courtyard of the royal castle of Bernicia. Down below in the twilight, newly-crowned King Everard looked close to tearing his hair out as he loudly chastised the pair of green-clad, mud-drenched knights standing before him. “He’s really not happy with them, is he?” Merlin commented.

“I can’t say I blame him. If what I heard from Hertha is true, they behaved disgracefully...and this is coming from the man who raised Gwaine.”

Suddenly, the familiarity made sense. “You’re Goddard!”

“Last I checked. And you’re the famous Merlin. Or would you prefer Emrys?”

“Merlin’s fine.” The warlock chuckled and joined the old prince on the bench by the window. “Emrys is what the druids call me, and the way they say it is...Well, it’s almost _too_ respectful, if that makes any sense.”

“I’m a royal who doesn’t particularly like it; I think I can understand somewhat.” Goddard smiled again, then raised his eyebrows as another drunken chorus floated up the nearest staircase. “It’s good to know that the knights who don’t get into unprovoked wrestling matches in the middle of the marketplace find other ways to embarrass themselves.”

“Heh. I think I saw Elwin with them on my way up...”

“That I believe. So, did you come here from Hayden’s?”

They chatted for a bit about wyverns, friends, and family. When more curses and crashing sounds emanated from down the hall, Goddard said, “Don’t worry about it. Haralda’s just throwing another fit over the fact that yet another young lord won’t admit that she’s better with...well, everything that involves weapons instead of emotions.”

“Not surprising.” Merlin glanced outside. “Looks like the king’s done reprimanding his knights. How is he managing? Being king, I mean?”

“He’s managing.” Goddard laughed softly. “Some people are born to be leaders, and I think he’s one of them. But that doesn’t make it easy all the time.”

“Tell me about it. Arthur’s that way.”

“So I’ve heard.”

One of the drunken voices from the level below, now babbling instead of singing, grew much nearer as two figures came up the stairs and into the corridor. Merlin stifled a snort at the sight of Prince Elwin hanging off of Gwaine and rambling directly into the older man’s ear. “But Ev said I couldn’t let all the horses out even if I promised to get the back in...the apples would’ve worked, I swear...then that knight Sir...Sir Whatever-His-Name said...Hi, Uncle!”

Merlin laughed as Gwaine flinched at Elwin’s shout. “Need some help, Gwaine?”

“Yeah, knock him out for me, will you?” Gwaine barely managed to catch his cousin as the younger man made to walk away on his own and almost fell. “Even I didn’t used to get this drunk this early...”

“You sure about that? I think you were at least a bit drunk the first time we met, and that was around midday...Then there was that time...”

“You know what? Forget I said anything.” Rolling his eyes, Gwaine slung Elwin’s arm over his shoulders and started off down the hallway with the parting words, “Father, Mother’s looking for you.”

“I should go find her.” Goddard stood and shared a look with Merlin as Elwin started singing again, his voice warbling and echoing off the stone walls.

“I’d better look for my guest chambers,” Merlin said. “It was good to meet you, sir.”

“Just Goddard will do.” They shook hands, and the prince said, “By the way, I should thank you.”

“For what?”

Gwaine’s voice reached them. “Elwin, I swear to every deity there is, if you vomit on me...Haralda, quit using your tapestries for target practice and help me with your brother!”

Goddard smiled faintly and said, “Thank you for looking out for him all those years ago. He needed that.”

Merlin grinned in return. “Well, what are friends for?”

 

 

 


	11. The Return of...Well, Almost Everybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reincarnation fic set in the same universe as "The Reasons Why They Don't Know Me" and "The Battles We Cannot Evade". Ensemble cast, including OCs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always kind of wanted to write a Merlin reincarnation fanfiction. But I don't really have the time or the inspiration for a full-length one, and I kept imagining some of my Bernicia OCs in modern times, so this happened.

Mordred came back, decades after Andor, and Arthur met his end at Camlann. People died, kingdoms fell, magic retreated into secrecy, and Emrys waited.

Because the Once and Future King’s return had been prophesied just as his death had.

* * *

Arthur had not yet risen from his centuries-long slumber when others from Camelot of old began to make appearances. Merlin supposed it was fitting that the first he saw was Gaius.

The former court physician was a respected doctor in a busy London clinic. When Merlin took his sweet old landlady (even warlocks needed someplace to stay, and wilderness got lonely on any continent) in for her checkup, he nearly cried out when he saw his mentor, looking many years younger than he remembered.

Gaius didn’t recognize him. Merlin, sorrowful and a bit angry, refused to set foot in that clinic again for six months. After that, he began lurking around the place every so often, just to make sure Gaius (his first name in this life was somehow the same, but his last name was Herb, which Merlin found funny) was okay.

He also felt in the mood to look like his young self rather than his middle-aged or old self for the first time in two hundred years or so.

* * *

To an immortal sorcerer, five years was not a very long time, and it was about that long after first seeing Gaius that Merlin turned a corner in a store to find a surprisingly young Gwen and Elyan bickering over whether or not Emil (Elyan) needed a new shirt or three. (Gwen, as it turned out, was still called Gwen.)

Merlin wondered if he should walk away, but instead he approached the siblings, introduced himself, and offered his services as a mediator. They were wary at first, naturally, but before long he had their phone numbers and had met (or, rather, re-met) their father Thomas.

* * *

 

As more time passed, Merlin began to notice that a lot of people seemed familiar...as in, he’d met them over a thousand years earlier. The young man laughing and stumbling around outside a bar with his friends looked like Sir Kay, a knight in the later days of Camelot. He could swear that the new waitress in the cafe Gwen frequented had been a farmer’s daughter in Ealdor. While watching a movie he didn’t know much about, he nearly fell off his sofa when he recognized the lead actress as Princess Elena of Gawant. And he was almost certain that he’d glimpsed George dressed as a hotel porter.

“What do you think it all means?” he asked a fully-grown Aithusa when he took a quick trip to Greenland to visit her. “Is _everyone_ going to come back? ‘Cause I’d rather Uther didn’t...None of them seem to remember...What does this mean for the prophecies? For Arthur?”

“The old religion works in mysterious ways, Emrys,” Aithusa rumbled in response.

“Please stop talking like Kilgharrah used to,” Merlin said with a groan. Then, “I just suppose we’ll have to wait and see...”

But when he returned to Britain, he started actively looking for his old friends.

* * *

 

Geoffrey was still Gaius’s friend...and a terrifying librarian.

* * *

 

Lancelot (or just Lance) had gone to college with Gwen and had recently moved back into the same area she lived in. Merlin watched them flirt and wondered if he should do anything about it. _If...When Arthur returns…_

He decided to let things take their course. Besides, Lancelot was still a great friend, even if he didn’t remember Camelot.

_Yet._

* * *

Morgause was a socialite with the first name Melissa, and was rumored to be influencing various politicians behind the scenes. Merlin decided to keep a watchful distance. _I won’t let her try to ruin things again...Though I suppose this means Morgana might come back, too…_

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

* * *

As Merlin was apparently everyone’s confidante, he was the first to hear about the strange dreams. Not everyone seemed to be having them (Tom, for instance, never did), but Gwen, Lancelot, Elyan, and even Gaius (if Merlin’s information gained from snooping was correct) were.

It was a bit exciting. 

* * *

When Merlin located Leon (who had originally outlived everyone in the old crowd from Camelot save Emrys), the blond man sighed in relief and actually hugged the warlock. “I’ve remembered everything for _years_ , Merlin, since I was _seventeen_! Which was the same age I was when I first began serious knighthood training in Camelot itself...Do you think I’m cursed or something?”

“Um, I actually think you might be blessed, in some way. You did seem to survive a lot...”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. Anyway, who else have you found?”

“About that...”

* * *

When Gaius left work the day he first remembered, he found Merlin waiting by his car with a broad grin. “Hello, Gaius.”

Gaius’s first reaction was to slap the warlock upside the head. His next move was to engulf the younger man in a hug. “It’s been too long, my boy.”

“You’ve never been more right.”

* * *

_Merlin, have you found Gwaine yet? I liked him._

_Not yet, Aithusa. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon._

* * *

 

On the upside, Lancelot remembered next and was glad to hear that Merlin had eventually been able to use his magic freely.

On the downside, the noble knight became more serious overnight and distanced himself from Gwen. She didn’t understand and was hurt until a few weeks later, when she remembered everything on the same night as her brother.

It was nice to see at least two-thirds of that enchanted bracelet business cleared up at last.

* * *

 

Lancelot had once worked with Percival (or Percy, as his family called him now) in a different city, and he, Elyan, Gwen, Leon, Merlin, and even Gaius took a day trip to visit the towering man.

The door was answered by Haralda Barclayn (now Hannah Barclay), who didn’t remember them. Percival, however, did, and was overjoyed to see them all.

“When I remembered, I figured you’d show up eventually...I expected Merlin at least...I hope _she’ll_ remember, too...Her parents and her cousin Garth’s...Gwaine’s, that is; I’ve seen pictures; it’s him...all died in a freak car accident a few years back. Alan...Aldwyn...got in a fight with a drug addict or something and got stabbed to death...After all that, Hannah needed some space...Anyway, the rest of them are living up in Edinburgh. I guess Gwaine and Elen are taking care of the kids."

_So in this life, Gwaine’s the responsible one._

As relative ages in these new lives seemed more or less consistent to the old, Merlin did some quick figuring and decided that the twins were about fourteen or fifteen now. “Well, I’m going to Scotland. Who’s up for a longer road trip?”

That night, Haralda had a dream that woke her up yelling swear words. At a group breakfast in a cafe the next morning, she confirmed that she remembered, too. “I’m going to hit Gwaine when I see him.”

“For what?” Lancelot asked while the others exchanged looks.

“For outliving me, of course. Then he’ll hit me back for the shit I pulled in this life, and we’ll be even.”

“Before you ask, Lance, she was always like this,” Elyan said with a grin.

“No,” said Leon. “I think she was worse.”

“I can still throw things with accuracy, you know.”

* * *

They actually found Elen (Helen) first...snogging Hayden Wyverndomitor in the empty waiting room of the animal shelter they both worked at. Apparently, their memories had only come back that very day.

“I’m just going to blame you for that, Emrys,” Elen said, before she stepped over to Haralda and slapped her. “Never run off again. I had enough of that with Gwaine the first time around.”

While that conversation was continuing, Hayden grinned at Merlin and the others. “It’s great to see you all again.”

“Likewise,” Merlin said with a smile.

Percival said, “Please tell me you don’t have wyverns in this life.”

“No, sadly I do not. But I do have an iguana...and several bearded dragons...and a few geckos...”

* * *

 

Evan, Ethan, and Heidi (Everard, Elwin, and Hertha) were at school when the company got to the Barclay house. Gwaine was out front, engrossed in the mechanics of a motorcycle.

The others hung back while Merlin and Elen approached. “Um...Garth?” the warlock ventured.

The former knight glanced up, shared a look with Elen, and got to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. “Merlin, mate,” he said with a broad smile, “What took you so long?”

* * *

The veritable feast they had that night was boisterous and joyous. Yet, though the table was more than full, almost everyone (maybe not Heidi/Hertha, who still didn’t remember her past life or really understand where all these guests came from or what they were talking about) felt a conspicuous absence.

“So the Princess hasn’t returned yet,” Gwaine said quietly to Merlin at one point.

“No, not yet.”

“Any idea what threat he’s supposed to be facing?”

“No.” Merlin sighed, then brightened. “By the way, Aithusa’s still alive, and she’d love to see you...”

* * *

The next year was both wonderful and not. Most reincarnated souls did not seem to remember their past lives, yet it was somehow comforting to know they were all there.

Merlin was elated to have all his friends back. They all made a point to keep in close contact, even though they had to continue their modern lives. Magic, both good and not so good, kept popping up around the world. Morgana emerged, a lonely woman with a young illegitimate child and with powers she couldn’t understand or control. Vowing to do better this time around, Merlin helped her and young Mordred (even though it was so hard to get past Camlann), and when Morgana’s memories returned (Mordred’s, thankfully, remained dormant for the time being), it was a struggle, but they all managed it together. Gwen, with her boundless kindness, was invaluable during that time.

In a less arduous twist, both Elen and Gwaine developed some magical talent in their new life, which annoyed them to no end.

Yet even for those not weighed down by past evil actions faced difficulties when balancing memories of two lives. Merlin could see it in all of them. Friends had been regained, but many people had been lost.

Percival loved Haralda, but missed his first wife from before and their son. Hayden and Elen were inseparable, and yet mourned their long-dead children (Merlin suspected Hayden also mourned the long-dead wyverns, though probably not as much). Elyan had endured some terrible torture during his lifetime and had died painfully in a skirmish, and the reemergence of those memories did nothing to help him mentally. Gwen longed for her husband and child. Everard, Elwin, and Hertha (who did regain pieces of her past life as the year went by) all struggled with years and years of adult memories at the ages of fifteen and eleven, respectively. Some of the friends from Camelot had returned family members who lived longer and better lives than before, but the Barclayn clan had lost Harlan, Aldora, Goddard, and Ela even sooner in this life than they had in the last one.

“It’s probably just as well,” Gwaine told Merlin with a ghost of a smile. “If Uncle Harlan regained his memories now, he’d be breaking expensive electronics left and right.”

Despite everything, Merlin was happier than he’d been in centuries, and kept himself well-prepared for any evil that might need to be defeated.

_Now, if Arthur would just show up…_

* * *

The dire time did draw nearer, and Arthur, young and strong as he had been in the first years of his reign, rose from the lake to find Merlin waiting for him. After an embrace and a quick explanation of the others’ returns, the king said, “Have I and the rest been brought back to save the world?”

“It seems so. And I bought a castle so we could all stay together and plan when we need to.”

“Right. You bought a castle.” Arthur frowned. “Did you do some magic to make that happen, or...”

“Shut up, clot-pole.”

“Idiot.”

“Prat.”

It felt so good to laugh with Arthur again. 

The king’s "welcome back" at said castle was a joyful occasion, and Merlin was not the only person with tears in his or her eyes.

However, when Arthur had properly greeted his wife, knights, and close friends (including a reformed Morgana), he turned to the remaining people in the room and groaned. “Seriously, Merlin? Why did the magic have to bring back most of the Barclayns, too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun with this ;)


	12. All Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU of an AU, if you will. Gwaine more or less had magic all along.

To learn magic, even to seek it out through objects and locations, one had to have some talent for it. Some people did take this route, for good or ill. Other people were born with the magic already running through their veins, though in all instances except one, it did not reveal itself until years after their births.

Some were children when it happened. Some were adults.

* * *

Elen Barclayn was eight years old when the first burst of magic escaped her, sending a high-perched jar she’d been reaching for tumbling down too forcefully to shatter on the floor below. She was startled into tears, but only until she realized exactly what had happened and went running to her mother, shrieking in excitement.

Ela smiled and hugged her daughter warmly, all the while pushing down the flicker of panic in her chest. _You’re not in Camelot_ , she reminded herself. _You’re safe. She’s safe._ Her gaze caught on her son, lurking by the nearest doorway. She smiled at him, too. _If he has magic, too, then he is also safe._

* * *

Four years later, standing by a window that looked out onto a grassy yard, she said, “Goddard, I don’t believe our son has magic. Elen’s showed itself so young...I think he’s free of that skill.”

Her husband gave her a look. “Well, perhaps that is for the best. I have to be able to teach one of our children something, don’t I?”

She chuckled and kissed him. Outside, Elen conjured a lopsided butterfly and sent it at Gwaine’s head. It got tangled in his hair and the sound of his indignant yelps filled the air.

* * *

Gwaine Barclayn was sixteen years old when he stabbed his father by accident and ran away from home. He was nineteen when shoved a bandit away with only his mind. When he realized what had happened, he screamed. The other two bandits went flying, too.

* * *

He almost went home. He made it to the border.

Then he turned back and, remembering something his mother had said long ago, went hunting for druids.

* * *

He was always going to be too confrontational, too loudmouthed and loud-minded, and too fond of ale to ever fit in completely in the camp. But the druids he found somewhere in Rheged were nice enough. They were glad to help him. They taught him some things and gave him some knowledge that he probably never would’ve had otherwise.

Though he would have preferred to have his mother, or his sister...or his father.

* * *

He didn’t let himself get drunk often. Maybe it would have helped push the magic down, or maybe it would have set it loose. Maybe it depended on the day. 

He was afraid to find out.

* * *

His magic wasn’t anything awe-inspiring, but it saved him a knife to the leg a couple years after he left the druids. He’d been passing through the kingdom of Camelot, keeping his head down, and only got involved in the unfair tavern brawl when the thugs started it.

Gwaine saved the blond man because he was with the raven-haired sorcerer. He nearly panicked and bolted when he learned that he’d saved Arthur Pendragon.

But when offered a reward and a decent bed for a night or three, he followed Arthur and Merlin back to Camelot, because he was too curious.

He talked and laughed with Merlin, but inwardly he was yelling, _Why?_

* * *

He knew the knights were not at all who they seemed the moment he stepped into the room to rescue Merlin. He couldn’t narrow it down, but he felt the magic raising hairs and itching inside his mind.

He wasn’t too worried about imprisonment, even with the threat of execution. He could manage an escape. However, if it weren’t for the prince, he might have used the “audience” with Uther as a chance to kill the king. Yes, he would’ve died for sure then, but wouldn’t it have been worth it?

Then Arthur intervened, and the chance was gone. 

* * *

He sneaked back into Camelot because he was afraid Merlin would do something stupid during the melee. Merlin might have magic, but Gwaine could use a sword and actually pass as a knight under enough armor.

Magic didn’t spare him from a fall and a damaged shoulder, but a whispered spell tripped and brought down the man riding up behind Arthur before anyone else could intervene. After that, Gwaine relied on his swordsmanship. His magic sometimes failed him. His sword never did.

* * *

Having his banishment enforced despite the circumstances was a relief.

He wanted to tell Merlin to flee Camelot, to come with him, to get away from the Pendragons. He wanted to ask his fellow sorcerer why and how he could bear to stay. He wanted to reveal himself.

He didn’t. Instead, he went druid-hunting again, and learned some more things he would not have otherwise.

Though he frequented dodgy taverns less often than he had before the age of nineteen, he kept visiting them after Camelot. Just in case someone needed to find him.

* * *

Threatening the wee bridge-keeper would accomplish nothing, so Gwaine didn’t do so.

When Merlin called off the wyverns, Gwaine was not surprised.

When the stone door descended and Merlin was trapped on the other side, only Arthur’s presence stopped Gwaine from blasting the thing to bits.

When he turned back at Camelot’s border, he told himself to go home, or at the very least not come back to Camelot.

* * *

The slave traders caught him by surprise and knocked him out. Only the fear of getting caught and being confined as a sorcerer would stopped him from using magic in the fights. He still intended to use it to escape. Then Merlin and Arthur arrived.

* * *

That sword hummed so loudly with magic that it was rather worrying to have close to one's head.

However, the fact that Arthur knighted him was terrifying. Once and Future King or not, Arthur was a Pendragon.

* * *

 

Terrified or not, Gwaine used so many spells over the next few days that he almost passed out when the immortal soldiers exploded into sparks. As soon as he recovered, he prepared to run.

But Merlin seemed happy and content to stay. Gwaine followed his lead.

* * *

A year later, Gwaine wanted to be the one to take Merlin back to Camelot, but Arthur decided that Lancelot would. Still, before dawn arrived, while no one was looking, Gwaine tried a couple druid healing spells on the unconscious manservant. Maybe it helped a little, but he wasn’t holding his breath. His healing skills had always been rubbish, anyway.

Lancelot briefly pulled him aside the next morning. “I saw you last night.” Gwaine reached for his magic and his sword, but Lancelot held up a hand. “Gwaine, your secret is safe with me, I swear to you.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Lancelot said, hesitantly, “Merlin...”

“I know about him. That’s the only reason I’m still in Camelot.” The druids’ prophecies be damned; _Merlin_ was the person Gwaine trusted.

That was the last real conversation he ever had with Lancelot, because neither Merlin nor Gwaine’s sword nor their magic was enough to prevent the noble knight from sacrificing himself.

* * *

After it all, Gwaine almost told Merlin. Almost.

And if he nearly attacked Arthur every time the king disparaged all magic and magic-users, well, no one knew about that.

* * *

Magic didn’t save Uther. Magic didn’t stop Gwaine from being poisoned along with the other knights, though he knew what Merlin must have done with the dragon egg and cheered silently.

Gwaine might’ve tripped Annis’s champion during the duel, just once. Merlin was clearly handling the rest. Afterward, Gwaine caught the man some called Emrys staring at nothing and frowning. “Everything all right, mate?”

“What? Oh, yeah, just...trying to figure something out.”

Gwaine would have told him right then and there, but Elyan walked up and ended the moment.

* * *

Gwaine was pretty damn sure that old “Dragoon” was Merlin, and thought that maybe Uther’s death wasn’t an accident or backfiring spell.

The memory of how Merlin behaved around Arthur for weeks after the king's death convinced him otherwise. 

* * *

 

He didn’t trust Agravaine at all, and he hated the way the magic in the stone chamber made his skin prickle with fear. He left out that last part when he tactfully related his suspicions to the king, who promised to consider them.

He didn't. 

* * *

Then came the lamia.

Gwaine could feel something attempting to take over his mind, cloud his thoughts, and twist his actions, and knew somehow that his magic was the only thing allowing him to fight back. Lamia probably still tried to put him under her spell because she didn’t want to have contend with two magic-users at once.

Everyone bickered, Elyan fell sick, and even though he knew Merlin would’ve already, Gwaine tried a healing spell.

In the ruined castle, he tried to keep his head down, and regretted it later. But Merlin and Gwen managed.

Back in Camelot, Merlin approached Gwaine and said casually, “So, you ever stayed with any druids?”

Heart pounding, he answered, “Why do you ask?”

“Back with Lamia, when Elyan was sick...I heard you say something over him. Sounded familiar, like a druid prayer, maybe?”

It wasn’t a prayer; Gwaine knew Merlin knew that. Suddenly weary of all the lies and wishing he’d done this sooner, Gwaine glanced at a nearby unlit torch and said, “ _ **Forbearnan.**_ ”

He heard Merlin gasp, and he didn’t look at him as he said, “I was nineteen when I started doing magic by accident. I went to the druids for help, but I didn’t fit in there. When I saw you in that tavern, throwing plates and benches without using your hands..” Gwaine turned to the warlock and finally asked the question that had been ringing in his head for years. “ _Why_ , brother?” The term slipped out unexpectedly. “Is destiny really that important to you, _Emrys_?”

Merlin stared at him, face pale. “If you’re still here...then you know that it is that important. You know that _Arthur_ is.”

Gwaine felt like crying, as unmanly as that might be. “All that won’t matter if he catches you saving him and decides to kill you anyway!”

“I have to try. For Albion.”

They were both angry with each other at first, for the lack of trust on both sides. But before the week was out, apologies had been made and...Well, it was nice to have a confidante who also used magic.

* * *

They, along with Gaius, worked together to stop Lancelot and a possessed Elyan. They failed the first time, and succeeded the second.

The success meant peace with the druids, but losing Lancelot like that hurt so badly, given Merlin and that last conversation, that Gwaine drunk himself into unconsciousness in his own chambers.

“I think you said you swore off that much alcohol at once when your magic appeared,” Merlin said the next morning as he handed the knight a headache cure.

“I had a relapse. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done the same. Or worse.”

* * *

Gwaine believed that he must have lost his mind a little bit when Morgana invaded the second time. Why else would he use his magic to break himself, Elyan, and Gaius out of the dungeons, along with the other knights and citizens being held there?

When Elyan picked up a fallen guard’s sword, raised it, and turned to face him, Gwaine snarled, “Going to kill me, Elyan? Then go ahead, because I sure as hell didn’t ask for this magic that I just saved your life with.”

They escaped Camelot through the use of swords and spells, and no one else even dared to threaten Gwaine. They were all there when Arthur pulled that damn humming sword out of a rock.

But through it all, Gwaine still heard the whispers and felt the stares.

* * *

They defeated Morgana, freed Camelot, Arthur took back the throne, and it was glorious.

Gwaine left before the new queen was crowned.

He went home.


	13. A Little Game

The blonde, very young woman tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the dice on the table in front of her. “I don’t like this game.”

“That’s because you’re losing, Amelia.” Dark-skinned Thomas grinned and elbowed his sister, who was sitting beside him. “Thalia here has the same problem.”

“Shut it, Tom.”

“Once again, I am glad I have no sisters.” On the other side of Thalia, his back to the door, Llacheu smirked and snatched up the dice, only to yelp when his cousin punched his arm. “Ow!”

“Big baby,” Thalia snorted as Tom laughed and Amelia rolled her eyes. Next to her, Edlin hid a smile.

Caldwell remained unperturbed by all of this. “Your turn, Llacheu. Go on.”

“Yeah, fine...Tom, watch his eyes.”

“I’m _not_ going to use magic to throw your dice off!”

“He never does,” Edlan muttered as Llacheu threw the dice. “He never cheats at all. Unless he’s playing with _only_ Llacheu.”

“Really?” Amelia said, the look on her face leaving no doubt that she would’ve considered such action...if she had magic, that is. “So he’s never cheated in a group game? Not once?”

“Cal’s too nice.” A couple people startled as the by far youngest person at the table spoke up for the first time in a while. From her position across from the prince, she scanned the group with narrow brown eyes and shrugged. “Father says he spends too much time with Merlin.”

“But the Court Sorcerer plays pranks on the king…or so they say,” Thalia added hastily.

“Exactly.”

The game continued on, and Amelia was eliminated on the next round. She took this news with a loud snort and crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Stupid game, anyway.”

“Aw, is that any way for a lady to talk?” Tom said, earning himself a smack from Thalia. “Seriously, though, I think your father would be scandalized.”

“My father has to much self-control to be scandalized. My mother, on the other hand...”

Edlan took his turn and handed the dice to the youngest player, who threw a bad round and was also eliminated. Her reaction was to let out a curse word.

“ _Holly_!” Caldwell shouted. “You can’t _say_ things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Aunt Gwen’s right; we shouldn’t let her hang around us,” Thalia said with a sigh. “She’s just a child. We’re corrupting her.”

“No, I’m pretty sure she heard that from her father, not us,” Llacheu said.

Amelia gave him a look. “You barely know her father.”

“I hear things!”

Caldwell was still in mid-rant. “...Mother will kill me if she finds out that you even know that word, and Father...”

“...will probably laugh. Then tell me not to say it. Fine. I won’t.” Holly slumped in her seat, pouting.

The game continued, until Llacheu accused Caldwell of cheating, again. “You admitted you cheat when you’re just playing against me!”

“That was _Edlan_ , not _me_!”

Edlan, despite being close to growing into his father’s height, let out a squeak as the stationary dice began to rattle menacingly.

Thomas swore, which led Thalia to hit him again, which led to Amelia beginning a lecture on manners. This was interrupted by Caldwell throwing the dice at Llacheu, who lunged across the table to tackle him, while Edlan fell out of his chair and Holly began to giggle uncontrollably.

Then they all heard footsteps.

* * *

 

By the time the group of older people reached the open doorway of the room, all there was to see was seven young people of varying ages, playing a friendly game.

“They are behaving so well for once, aren’t they?” the queen said. Her husband and the other parents smiled proudly and murmured their assent. “It’s nice when they finally do grow up,” someone commented.

Noting the way Cal’s hair was standing on end and the positively evil look on Holly’s face, Merlin raised his eyebrows.”Grown up, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear:  
> Amelia is Leon's daughter, Thomas & Thalia are Elyan's children, Edlan is Percival's son, Caldwell & Holly are Gwaine's kids, and Llacheu, of course, is Arthur and Gwen's.


End file.
